In the wake of the unspeakable deaths of law enforcement officers in Dallas and the insanity that caused their deaths, I need to say this: my husband Morris eschewed violence in all its forms because he was a sniper in a force recon unit in Viet Nam. He did not treasure his memories of that time in his life. He said that televised/internet/video game violence “shows the killing, not the dying.” He knew how the eyes can see but the brain can’t make any sense of that level of violence. He lived with that, and in spite of it all, he had a kindness about him that drew people to him, especially those who had suffered a great deal.
I honor his memory by restating our firm belief that all life is precious and important and we all bleed the same color. We both believed, and I still do believe that everyone has something important to say. I can only thank these heroic law enforcement officers for their sacrifice. I cannot even express how much sorrow I feel for their families and friends. Dona nobis pacem.
My final gesture of respect to law enforcement officers is this: the local police officers who visited my home on the night of my husband’s death on 17 February, 2016 were compassionate, respectful and kind. I could be wrong, because it happens a lot, but I thought I sensed they were veterans, because of the remarkable restraint they showed after the emergency medical technicians left. They allowed me time with my dead husband. They left me alone to whisper the 23rd psalm to myself and to the shell that used to be my Morris. I will never forget how they made a terrible situation a little less terrible.
When I think of law enforcement officers, I will always think of that, of young men who helped me in my darkest hour, and then stepped back to let me say goodbye to my beloved husband in peace and quiet. I will never forget that, and I thank them for their service, for putting their lives on the line every day, all day in their work to keep the peace.